Two Sides of a Coin
by booksforme
Summary: Edward's attempt to change back into a human leaves him dealing with two different aspects of his personality. Inspired by Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. BxE BxJ
1. Longing

_**Authors' Note: Thus we begin another mother-daughter (booksforme-readingagain) co-authored Twilight fanfiction. This was inspired by the musical version of Jekyll and Hyde, although there are also elements of **__**The Host**__** in certain parts of it (and if you have not read that book yet, get it immediately). **_

_**Disclaimer: We do not own **__**Twilight **__**or **__**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde**__**.**_

_You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years._

Edward stared out into the night and wondered, once again, why nights are so long.

He was sure that it must have seemed that way when he was human, but it was so much worse now. Everything was so much more solitary at night. It was not as if he was ever completely alone with his thoughts (no, that would be too much to expect in this crowded world) but there was something about the way he lived that made him feel as if he might be the only one in the world. His "family" was always there for him, of course, but it did not change who or what he was. Night seemed to reinforce his differences and he longed to escape this continual reminder of his lack of humanity.

"Carlisle, you've got so much medical knowledge," Edward stated for what may have been the millionth time in his long life, "can't you imagine a way to change us from what we are?"

Carlisle gazed sadly at the young man who he thought of as a son. It was so hard for Edward to accept being a vampire. He considered himself an irredeemable monster, yet Carlisle saw more kindness and virtue than he saw in most of humanity.

"Our bodies are what they are," he said slowly, "but you are not defined by that, Edward. You can become what you want as a person, you are simply not human."

There did not appear to be anything "simple" about not being human, but what could he say. He was cursed? He could not take the loneliness? Carlisle had given them all so much, but did it really change this half-life that he lived?

It was sometimes almost impossible to cope with his emotions. Hatred hurts so much more when it's directed at yourself, and, continually now, Edward could feel the loathing towards what he had become eat its way into him.

He was just so tired of night.

Why it took him so long to think about it, Edward would never know. It later seemed so natural -- wherever there is a problem, there's a person striving for a solution. Maybe it was the finality of it all that kept him from seeing the obvious course of action. Carlisle was so convinced that nothing could be changed, and in all honesty, how changeable does eternity seem anyway?

Suddenly, however, it occurred to Edward that there was nothing _stopping_ him from trying to be human.

He was what he was now, but just because Carlisle said that he would always be that way, did that make it certain? What was the worst that could happen to him if he tried to become something else? Death certainly wasn't a fear. He wasn't even alive, so how could he die?

If you really thought about it, there was nothing bad about chasing after life.

It was an enticing idea, being able to live again. Not being a monster, instead being what he wanted to be. He could be with people without threatening their safety. He could live a life in which he didn't have to shy away from sunlight. He could feel his excitement growing as he considered all that would be open to him.

Carlisle might not believe in this quest, but that didn't mean he couldn't be an asset for Edward. All the knowledge that his father had built up over hundreds of years was an open book to him. He was a mind reader, after all. And it wasn't as if Edward didn't have the time to work on this problem. Indeed, he had more time than he had ever been able to deal with.

The lifestyle which the Cullens shared in Forks meant that Edward had endless resources at his disposal in addition to his endless motivation. It was a scientist's dream set-up. Now all he needed was a starting point.

This answer, of course, was also obvious. What was the thing that caused the major conflict between vampires and humans, the thing which both connected them and separated them? It was the absence and thirst for blood that made him a vampire – perhaps it would be the presence of it that would make him human?

Obviously gorging himself on humans wasn't going to work (otherwise vampires would have discovered this solution ages ago, and in any case, it gave Edward shivers just thinking about giving in to his monstrous instincts). He knew that depending on the blood of others would never be enough to effect a change in him.

So… what if he could make blood for himself?

It seemed like a crazy idea at first. He knew that young vampires spent their first years absorbing the blood that was already in their system. What if he could stop that process somehow and also make his own? A vampire, forcing his own body to produce blood? Was it so far-fetched, though? It was bone marrow that produced blood in humans. Didn't he have bones, too, albeit crystallized ones?

It was something to think about. He couldn't help feeling a little crazy as he searched for the answers, as if he were doing something that defied the way things were meant to be. Carlisle was so certain that there was really no option. Had the man really considered the idea though, or just accepted his fate with the serenity that he seemed to always have possessed?

The prize, though, was worth the doubts. Didn't all genii seem crazy in their time? They were just forward-thinkers, weren't they? To have the idea, though, gave him hope. With that hope he could make it through his days, and more importantly his nights, working towards his goal.

The only thing constant is change. The world seemed to be continually shifting, and Edward, just maybe, could find a way to shift with it.

Why not? He literally had until the end of the world.


	2. Testing

**Authors' Note: There are a lot of reasons that it took so long to get this chapter up, none of which will apply to posting the next chapter, so rest assured. The good stuff starts soon! **

**Disclaimer: We don't own **_**Twilight**_** or **_**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.**_

Bella Swan.

The name had been ringing through the hallways of the school all day. The first time Edward came close to Bella, it was suddenly as if she were the center of the universe -- and this wasn't a good thing. Her scent had hit him with such intensity that he had lost any other thought aside from an overwhelming desire for her blood.

He no longer had to fight his instincts as much – without the new girl's presence, any weak thoughts could be wiped away by Edward's well-trained restraint – but there was now a different emotion to fight : guilt, and self-loathing.

They could pretend they were human all they wanted. He could go through high school again and again – they could do homework, they could buy food at lunch, they could live like they were normal. Yet… as good as their intentions were, as hard as they tried, in the end, how much of them was still just the monsters they had become so many decades ago?

After today, it felt as if he knew the answer to that question, and he hated it. Whatever Carlisle said about rising above the situation, the fact remained that it was impossible -- that there would always be a part of Edward, much too large, that was capable of hideous deeds, and completely unable to be tamed.

And it wasn't just that she had challenged him so much that was so disturbing. Edward had never felt so connected to another person before, although he couldn't quite explain why he should feel this way after just meeting the girl. He had been intrigued by her during lunch. More specifically, he supposed that he was intrigued by the mystery that he perceived as Bella Swan. He could not read her thoughts and yet he imagined that those thoughts would have been a relief to him, after all the vacuous things he had been subjected to over the years.

Why did she have to remind him of just how different he was from a normal teenager? Why did this monster within him crave the same girl that was invading his mind? He knew that his quest to become human was even more important. He would do this to combat the monster in himself…

…and, just possibly, to be able to know Bella Swan.

--

It wasn't difficult to find the perfect place to work on his experiment. The basement to the Cullen house was a fortress to any human who wished to investigate, but presented little challenge to the seven vampires living within. Anything of a secret nature could take place here, but it wasn't unusual for Edward to spend some solitary time in its depths as well.

No one was curious about the amount of time that Edward was spending in the basement and he was pleased with the progress that he was making. His extensive research on the chemicals of his compound made him hopeful about the overall effectiveness. It didn't hurt that in addition to the medical training he already had, there was a wealth of information in Carlisle's thoughts which was proving very useful. The most difficult part of his experiment was the fact that inevitably he could only test the potion upon himself.

It would help if someone could observe his reactions objectively, but he would have to trust that his mental faculties would not be too greatly affected. He would have liked to involve another member of his "family" to help him in this regard, but no one else seemed to suffer the same overwhelming need that he did. Maybe because they all had someone special for support…

"Now for the moment of truth," Edward whispered to himself, bringing himself back to the present. Test number one... had his hands been human, they would have been shaking with anticipation. This, of course, was one instance in which being a vampire helped things, as he brought the precariously full vial smoothly to his waiting lips. _It would be a bit too much to hope for to perfect it on its first try_, he tried to calm himself. But he had worked so hard, and everything just seemed too _perfect_...

His efforts were very nearly wasted as he gagged violently in surprise. "Bleck!" he gasped, nearly spewing the potion everywhere. "That's _horrible! _Maybe I should've thought to put some flavoring in this." _Flavoring? Who sells flavoring that tastes like blood? _he countered himself incredulously. "Shut up," he told his thoughts. He had much more important things to focus on. "Okay, now I wait, but for how long?" Any second now...

"Hey Edward, you _completely _should've seen the hunt this past weekend with Jasper," Emmett said as he practically bounced into the room. He stopped for a moment in the doorway, cocking his head goofily at his brother. "Why are you down here? I never could understand your attraction for this place."

"Sometimes I enjoy some quiet time. All alone," Edward said pointedly, staring at Emmett.

"Seems to me that you get enough quiet time as it is all alone in that room of yours listening to music. You should get out and do something. I wanted to tell you about this weekend." Without waiting for a reply, Emmett launched into his story. "You know how the hunt normally goes, waiting around and everything..."

Edward was edging towards the door as Emmett continued with his story. It wasn't that Emmett couldn't tell a good story, it was just that Edward had heard it all before – many, many times. It didn't help that he could read minds. There just seemed to be no escape from Emmett's boyish glee in reliving his latest venture.

"...so, just watch how I was able to catch up with him." Emmett was now acting out his part in this weekend's activities, completely oblivious to Edward's imminent departure. As Edward reached the door, however, he found it virtually immovable.

He tightened his grip around the doorknob, trying to wrench it open. It wouldn't budge at all.

What was wrong with him? He seemed to have lost all his strength completely. What was worse was the fact that he was now forced to endure Emmett's entire reenactment.

His mind was moving a thousand miles an hour. Was this what is was like to be human? He couldn't really remember. He tried to take a good look at himself, but really he didn't see any difference. Aside from his lack of strength, he didn't notice anything except…Was he only hearing one rendition of Emmett's story? Were there really no secret thoughts intruding?

"...and by this time, you know, the bear was totally going wild..."

But how was he supposed to know, after all? What would classify him as a human? Was there some kind of test he could do? Was the fact that he couldn't open the door an accurate test?

At this, he tried harder to open it, but his muscles just grew tired and had to stop.

Did that mean he was human?

"...so I _smashed _the thing right in the nose..." Emmett continued excitedly, encouraged that Edward was waiting to hear the story out before leaving. He jabbed the air with a fake snarl for dramatic effect.

But Emmett didn't seem to notice any difference, and wouldn't Emmett start having temptation problems near a human? Wouldn't he notice the scent of the blood, buzzing in Edward's veins?

_But then again_, Edward thought to himself, as he watched his brother ramble on obliviously, _he doesn't notice much of anything._

This was a dilemma. What would be the best way to test for results?

_Well, the main difference is the diet, right?_ he reasoned with himself, _so I could... try to eat human food?_

Which would have been just fine, had he been able to escape the basement to access some.

"...but Jasper was still acting all 'superior' anyway, so I..."

_I'll know I'm human when I starve to death waiting for this idiot to finish talking._

It was as good a plan as any. Edward sank to the floor, sighing as he brought his knees to his chest, and tried to wait his brother out. He shoved an interested look on his face whenever Emmett bothered to look back at him.

The interested looks faded after about half an hour. Emmett didn't need encouragement to be able to keep on reenacting his adventures until the potion wore off. Which it did. Edward didn't know whether to be thankful or annoyed when he finally was able to open the door and make his escape.


	3. Succeeding

**Authors' Note: The setting up ends by next chapter. w00t.**

**Disclaimer: We don't own **_**Twilight**_** or **_**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde**_**.**

_2__nd__ Attempt_

Edward sat at a small table in the corner, his notebook laid out neatly in front of him as he took inventory of himself. He didn't feel any different, but he hadn't noticed anything the night before, until he had tried to escape Emmett.

He drew in a deep breath, taking in the scents mingling in the pizzeria, before scribbling in his elegant handwriting,

_Observations:_

_No obvious urge to kill people in the immediate vicinity._

The same could not be said for what he might do to his brother. Edward's body still ached from the experiment of yesterday, and how much was a result of his formula and how much was due to Emmett he didn't really want to guess. He supposed that it would be natural that, out of the entire coven, Emmett would've searched him out. In a way Edward was grateful; after all, trying to escape from the never-ending story had caused him to realize the results of his latest trial. That the results of that trial were not quite what he wanted was distressing, but he shouldn't have expected success on his first attempt.

The failure of the previous test had been disheartening, but it had not caused him to lose hope. There was some promise in the test; after all: he had lost many of his vampire abilities, he just hadn't gained any human qualities. Certainly the desired result was humanity, but part of that had to come from losing his vampire self.

Edward dug his fingers – gingerly, at first -- into the table, then more firmly as nothing seemed to be happening. He nodded slightly to himself, before adding under his previous statement.

_Strength appears diminished_

With the idea of gaining human qualities in mind, Edward had reviewed his formula again. He had simply needed to adjust the chemicals which would cause his body to start producing new cells, rather than just suppressing the processes that were inherent in his vampire body. He had unlimited time at his disposal and, aside from the time he spent observing Bella, there was very little to distract him.

_Bella. _

Yes, at the thought of her, he had known he would most definitely begin working on a new formula immediately.

_Focus_, he reprimanded himself, bringing his thoughts back to the reality of the small, near-empty pizzeria. There were more tests to be done, after all.

He closed his eyes, listening intently. Without the usual babble of voices that would have confused him in a normal restaurant, it was particularly easy to focus on the thoughts that he could generally so easily read.

Edward stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, then turned back to his notebook to write,

_No thoughts heard from the front of the building._

He deliberated for a second; then, to be thorough, added,

_Possible explanation could be that there are no thoughts in server's head._

"Your pizza, sir."

Edward jumped a little, closing his notebook as quickly as would still be considered casual, and smiled nervously up at the waitress. She, being too busy trying to flirt with him, had noticed nothing.

When he didn't respond, she set the slice of steaming cheese pizza in front of him and smiled, "Enjoy your meal." When he still didn't respond, she started to leave, calling back, "You know, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

He didn't bother to work at the double meaning in those words, instead focusing on swallowing the lump in his throat as he stared his pizza down. It was now or never.

Within a few hours of forming his new strategy, Edward had been, once again, staring down at a tube of amber liquid. Before swallowing, however, he had tried to consider a better way to conduct his experiment. There was no doubt that he would have to try it out on himself again, but he had had to consider what changes he would be looking for. He also had to think about how to record those changes.

_Of course._ He had decided to keep a journal of sorts, and attempt to note any differences, no matter how slight. Given the small amount of formula that he was using for his trials, there seemed little likelihood of a permanent change. He could then review his results after the effects had worn off.

Edward had quickly headed out after gulping down the liquid. He had a small notebook in his pocket to note any changes as he drove off in search of a place to eat where he wouldn't be recognized.

The small pizzeria that he found fit his needs perfectly. He was a little surprised that the establishment was still in business, considering the lack of customers they seemed to have. There were not many choices on the menu -- which was a good thing, because he had nothing to base his opinion on, and he simply wanted to try eating.

Because if he was human, then that meant he would probably find it appealing.

_Ha! _This _is supposed to be appealing to me?_

Edward picked up the pizza, then flopped it back down on his plate, repulsed.

_That's just your past century of experience talking_, he told himself. _Just eat it._

Did he really have to?

He stared at the pizza for a very long moment, poking it apprehensively.

_Eat it! Before the potion wears off._

He sighed, and decided to take the plunge.

He chewed the pizza slowly, feeling very out of place and very confused. Okay, he couldn't claim that he was looking forward to another bite, but he might just be full. After all, he wasn't in need of another hunting trip just yet. He continued on eating until he had finished the entire piece.

_Do humans really enjoy this stuff?_

When he started wondering whether or not he should eat cardboard to see whether it tasted better to him or not, Edward realized that he had made a mistake. He really did not even want to _think_ about eating his second piece of pizza, and ended up tossing it into the garbage. This was going to be a long night.

Ugh.

_Success is when a person keeps going despite a bunch of painful failures, or whatever._ Edward gloomily walked out the door (he had already paid at the counter), and put his hands to his head, although what really hurt was his stomach.

On the bright side, if that was the case, then Edward was closer to success.

_Maybe next time._

--

_5__th__ Attempt_

_Loss of strength, no thoughts heard – normal vampiric suppression._

_Light-headedness. _

_No noticeable behavioral differences._

--

It hadn't been the next time, or even the one after that, in which Edward had succeeded. He once again lay his pen down, in a procedure that was getting old, and sighed in discouragement.

He was noticing some new reactions in this potion, but then again, each time he tried this, something different happened. He stopped getting excited anymore. To Edward's chagrin, it appeared that his eternal patience was already waxing thin.

_I'll do whatever it takes._

He sighed again, turning to look in the mirror, trying to find something in the image that would give him some badly-needed encouragement.

Staring back at him was the normal vampire image that he had come to despise. The same eyes, such an unnatural color of butterscotch… the same pale, pale skin… and the only thing about him that looked almost human, his bronze hair, in casual disarray…

Or was it the only thing?

Edward jolted back from the mirror in surprise as an unexpected feeling surged through the very surface of his fingertips. Was it… warmth?

It sent shivers through him: of pleasure, confusion, surprise. It was like what would happen to someone who had spent their entire lives in the bitter cold, when they first encountered fire. What had seemed normal to him, in that one moment of brief warmth, suddenly felt like ice.

His mind was whirling. It took him a surprisingly long time to think of his journal. Something new was happening… maybe, if he recorded it, he would be that much closer…!

What Edward didn't count on, was that he was already close enough.

He barely made it three steps before the dizziness -- a feeling that he had not experienced in over one hundred years – took hold.

There was no time to do anything except throw out his arm in front of him, just before he hit the ground.

Black out.


	4. Living

**Authors' Note: To all people of the US, happy July fourth! To everyone else… uh, happy July fourth too!**

**Disclaimer: We don't own **_**Twilight**_** or **_**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde**_

_What was that sound?_

One thin, wavering thought flitted across the man's mind, like the brief flash of a single star in the folds of night.

The silence was deep, a world without sound, except for that small, throbbing beat, somewhere in the back of his dazed awareness. It drummed in a faint pattern, willing him to understand. It was simultaneously wrong -- as if he had never heard it so close, a forbidden music -- and vastly comforting. It made no sense, and yet it helped everything make sense. It was...

_What was it?_

In the second that it took to realize it was his own heartbeat, the man opened his eyes and drew in a long breath.

It was wonderful to feel his lungs stretch, filling with air. For some reason, it was wonderful to need it. Dark colors blurred in front of his eyes, then focused. He exhaled, and again, the movement of muscle, the woosh of air, the pounding of his heart in his ears seemed to be some of the most beautiful things he had ever experienced.

It was so beautiful to _live_.

The floor pressed against his chest, and it felt cold against the warm skin of his arms. One of his hands was thrown out to the side, as if to break a fall that he couldn't remember. The palm of that hand stung slightly.

The man concentrated on the pain for a moment, wonderingly, before turning to inspect the rest of the room.

The most obvious thing was right next to his outstretched hand. As small, as transparent as it was, it was as much the center of focus in the room as if it were shining multi-colored lights out its sides. The vial was half-crushed, glass shards extending in a small arc around it, while a few drops of liquid -- all that remained -- puddled under it on the floor.

_Hmm._

The slight sigh was instinctive, and surprisingly loud in the surrounding quiet. The man laughed in surprise, and then laughed again at the sudden feeling of exhilaration that flooded him with that first soft chuckle.

A mirror stood on the other side of the room, and it drew him towards it. Moving was surprisingly easy, although it went slowly just for the fact that he kept stopping to admire the way it all felt. After crawling a few steps, he pulled himself awkwardly to his feet to stand in front of the reflective glass.

_Who am I?_

The question formed almost unconsciously in his head, as he studied his own reflection. He racked his brain, but couldn't come up with an answer. Were there clues in the image of himself? He focused, trying to take it all in.

Two wide eyes with black irises stared back at him, amid a face that some part of him vaguely remembered. The man took a minute to memorize it, then looked at the pile of bronze hair that framed the top. He lifted a hand -- hesitantly, at first, but then firmly -- and pushed the hair back from his face, arranging its casual disorganization in a thick group on one side of his head.

Satisfied, the man grinned at himself, flashing white teeth.

"I am Jacob," he told the mirror casually, like a life-long friend, "and it's good to be alive."


	5. Celebrating

**Author's note: Hope you've all recovered from last chapter's cliffy. Hmmm… wonder if Edward will.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own **_**Twilight**_** or **_**Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. **_**We're working on it, okay?**

Jacob turned from the mirror to scan the rest of the surprisingly well-organized room and sighed. There was an incredible desire in him to go somewhere, do something -- laugh just for the fun of it, spin until he fell down from dizziness. At this point, the idea of experiencing almost anything drew him in like a moth to flame.

He was nagged by his lack of memory, however. It wasn't as if he could remember nothing – after all, while he hadn't yet put his memory to the test, his thoughts were forming in coherent English, weren't they? – ha, he remembered what language he was speaking, too. It was just that he felt like there were some things he _should_ know but he didn't: half-remembered somethings at the edge of his brain. Like when a person tries to recall a dream that they had, even though they had already let the image slip away in the light of day.

He stared at the wall of CD's in the room and shrugged to himself. Listening to music could wait for another time… right now, he would head outside and enjoy the day. Somehow he felt like a sunny day was a rare treat that he could not possibly forgo. He headed down the stairs quietly, remembering enough to realize that it was probably wise to avoid running into someone right now.

Once outside, he took a deep breath and just luxuriated in it. Why did it feel so good to just breathe in the scents around him? His feet took him in no particular direction, but it didn't matter. Everything seemed so new, so fresh. _Life is wonderful_, he thought. He was struck with the sudden thought that that idea was the most important one he had ever had. It seemed to shake his entire being, and for a second he was overwhelmed by it. In the end, however, he decided to move past his overly introspective thoughts and just enjoy what was around him.

Somehow, Jacob found himself wandering near a road as he watched the light playing games with the trees. It was some time before the sound of a truck caused him to look up in concern at the noise that interrupted the scene around him.

"Are you all right?" the driver of the truck called out as he stopped next to Jacob. "You're all alone out here and there's really not anything around. Did your car break down?" He continued staring and Jacob wondered if the young man was concerned that he had stopped next to some homicidal lunatic.

Was it weird to be all alone with nothing in any direction but trees and road? It felt so right, yet Jacob had to admit that even in _his_ mind there seemed to be something impractical about it.

"Sorry. Actually, I'm not quite sure what happened. I seem to be having some trouble remembering things." Aside from his revelation of who he was, Jacob had not spoken, yet the words flowed easily off of his tongue. On an instinct, he let his small, perpetual smile grow as he looked up at the open car window.

The man smiled in return, seeming a bit relieved to find that Jacob wasn't insane. "Man, sounds like you must've hit your head or something. My name's Quil, by the way. I was just heading home." He paused thoughtfully, giving Jacob a considering look. "I can bring you with me, and maybe we can get you checked out by a doctor."

"Thanks for the offer. Oh, and I'm Jacob," he introduced himself to Quil. He tried to look reassuring. "Really, I'm not in any pain or anything. I just seem to be a little lost."

"All the more reason for you to come with me. I know exactly where I'm going," the young man smiled.

Jacob laughed at that. "Well, better one of us than none, I suppose." He climbed into the truck and was amazed at how comfortable he felt sharing smiles and conversation with Quil. Had he always been like this? He seemed to recall having some tension around other people before, but he couldn't imagine why.

When the truck started to roll forward again, Jacob knew immediately that he liked vehicles. The rumble of the engine sent a small thrill through him, and as they gained speed and the wind rushed in through the open window, it felt like he was flying. Once again, there was that irresistible impulse to experience inside him. He wanted to know how these things worked. He wanted to take them apart and put them together again, for no reason in particular.

"Actually, there's a bit of a party going on at the beach," Quil informed him, breaking the companionable silence after a while, "which is where we're headed."

Jacob grinned. "For any reason in particular?"

"The reason," Quil said, chuckling, "is that we're party animals. But I mention this because it might take a little more effort than usual to get a doctor over to you, what with everyone--"

"That's okay," Jacob immediately cut him off. Quil raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't particularly need a doctor."

"Uh, didn't you say that you're having memory loss problems…?"

"Yeah, well," Jacob didn't have any real idea how to respond to that, except that he didn't care about getting his memory back that much, which might have sounded weird. He ended up saying, "there's no real rush."

Quil still seemed to think there was something wrong with that. "No real rush? Won't people be looking for you?"

"Probably not." Jacob shrugged.

"How could you know that?"

To be honest, Jacob didn't, but he didn't want to admit as much. "Well, I mean, it's not like I'm having total amnesia. I know that I spend a lot of time hiking alone," he fibbed, "even if I'm not exactly sure how I got to where I was. But I still doubt anyone will miss me for a while yet."

The truck driver seemed about to argue, but before he could say anything, an unidentified flying object smashed against the windshield with a loud bang. Both of the truck's occupants could only stare as a grinning man about Quil's age stepped out from behind the last of the thinning trees.

They had reached the beach.

"Embry! What the heck was that?" Quil shouted out the window at the man. Music could be heard off in the near distance, and the drum beats resonated through the air so that Jacob almost missed Embry's reply.

"Did he say it was a hot dog?" Jacob whispered for confirmation.

"He better not have," Quil murmured back, looking as though he didn't know whether to be laughing or indignant that someone had gotten the better of him. He leaned out the window again. "You'd better run for your life or I will mow you over with this truck," he told Embry.

"So I assume there's an overabundance of hot dogs?" Jacob asked, liking this party idea more and more.

"You'd think so, but we can always find another use for them. Like how I'm going to completely pie Embry in the face with a few," Quil said, the look in his eyes saying that he was serious, as well as the goofy twist to his mouth.

"Oh, and what would that do, smear ketchup on me? Besides, you know that that was just payback for last year!" Embry pointed out fairly.

Quil pretended not to notice this.

--

"Holy Toledo, Jake, how many hotdogs have you had?"

"You think I'm counting? I lost track around eight."

"You better hurry up, Paul, I think he's ahead of you."

Paul looked as if he were about to burst, but at the warning he quickly snatched up a hotdog from under Jacob's reaching hand.

It was surprisingly easy to get Quil to forget all about the memory-problem situation. Despite Jacob's first impressions, the young man was one of the most childish people in the group. Embry, despite his hotdog-throwing tendencies, was a little quieter than the others, although he quickly became more boisterous around Jacob once it was proven just how much he belonged there.

And Jacob did, in fact, fit into the group like the last piece of a puzzle that had long awaited completion. They let him walk into the party as if he had come every year since it became a tradition, and people started shortening his name familiarly to "Jake" within the first ten minutes.

Jacob had been careful to steer Quil's preoccupation with getting back at Embry into full-blown forgetfulness that he had ever promised to bring him to a doctor. He was having too much fun learning what it was like to have way too many hotdogs to have to break it up for a doctor's visit.

Oh, gosh, why did it feel like he hadn't eaten food like this for a century? Jacob's stomach lining groaned amiably in protest as he picked up _yet another_ hotdog and sent Paul a challenging glare.

_Life is beautiful. Life is fantastic. Life is awesome. _The words were like a drumbeat in the back of his head, a harmony to the blaring radio music coming from further down the beach. The slowly sinking afternoon sun sent pleasant patterns across his skin.

"We should all go to my house to watch a movie after this," Quil sighed, leaning back against the sandy and rocks, his mood apparently a perfect match to Jacob's.

Jacob knew that he would probably slip away before he would get the chance, but he didn't mention it to Quil. It was nice, to think that maybe this day could go on and on, and acknowledging any possibility otherwise just seemed like idiocy.

But it was hard, all the same, not to feel like his gradually drooping eyelids were counting down his time.

_Life is marvelous_, Jacob told himself firmly. For now, the beach, his newfound friends, and his (tenth) hotdog seemed enough to overrule everything else.


End file.
